


The Most Magical of All Creatures

by wadebramwilson



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: A scientist is always fine, And the one that we deserve, Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Comedy, Dogs, Fluff, Gen, Scientist Newt Scamander, The scientist that we need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wadebramwilson/pseuds/wadebramwilson
Summary: Clearly, dogs are the most magical of all creatures. Newt is having a hard time substantiating this fact with good hard science. He prepares to recruit his most trusted research assistants for a series of field expeditions to finally get to the bottom of things.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	The Most Magical of All Creatures

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this and I just really want someone to want to talk to me about it and about dogs. If you are expecting this to be anything but Newt and his friends and their favourite dogs, you are at the wrong fic.

There was not a shade of doubt in Newt’s heart; dogs were truly magical creatures.

It was clear that they were highly empathetic beasts capable of sophisticated communication with a keen sensitivity for magical auras. Newt would wager that they may even be skilled in the art of legilimens. Perhaps, he thought in his darker ruminations, dogs were able to wield an _Imperious_ -esque means of mind control? Whatever their methods, he was sure that they were by all measures, magical.

There was just one _minor_ problem, which in his opinion, was beginning to become quite a _major_ problem.

Try as he might, Newt just wasn’t able to prove it.

Yet.

It wouldn’t have been a problem at all except for the fact that Newt was _the_ pioneer magizoologist, and therefore was considered to be quite the authority on all things magical creature. After the publication and success of both the first and second editions of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ the name ‘Newton Artemis Fido Scamander’ carried quite a hefty credibility. A credibility that he, of all people, was not about to jeopardize.

As a man of considerable scientific influence, Newt was obligated to provide a high degree of evidence for any magizoological theory that he posited. Even one as seemingly obvious as the widely held conjecture that dogs were indeed magical creatures.

Dogs, after all, were ubiquitous, world-renowned, and universally well-regarded creatures. They were held in high esteem throughout wizarding and muggle communities alike. There were a lot of very influential stakeholders in this particular area of creature research. It was a matter close to a lot of hearts.

Frankly, Newt was astonished that there wasn't already research being conducted on the matter. He couldn’t even find one book, one paper, one measly qualitative analysis! Newt knew that he had to be the first magizoologist to publish a credible study on this most essential subject. He was sure that his theory was going to garner a lot of attention, not just in the scientific community, but in mainstream print media as well. You couldn’t blame journalists, they had to give the people what they wanted.

Back to that _tiny_ problem that he was having, the technical hiccup, if you will, the _minor_ stumbling block, of how exactly was he going to prove it.

Well, the good news was that Newt was prepared for this. He was a scientist, and so he did what any good scientist would do in a situation like this. He prepared himself for field research.

Newt got to work. He practised disillusionment charms and scent masking charms, he studied up on all the most influential barks and woofs that he could manage with human vocal cords, he conjured a few quick _Avifors_ to make sure he hadn’t lost his touch, he even practised cat mewls and hisses (just in case it came to that), he threw tennis balls for two solid hours in his garden.

He packed his suitcase (his muggle suitcase) with dog biscuits, an assortment of bones, toys of the chew and tug varieties, his favourite binoculars, a garden hose, waste bags, tennis balls, water bowls, a clicker, common garden sticks, and a muggle handheld vacuum cleaner. He made space for liver treats, Percival’s smelliest sports shoe (and sock), a string of plastic hot-dogs (thanks Tina for the idea), and a wood-carved squirrel figurine circa 1872 (for posterity’s sake). Newt looked down at his brimming suitcase and surveyed his work. After a moment more of deep concentration, he threw seven more tennis balls on top of the mess and forced the lid closed.

He was ready.

\--

Porpentina Goldstein had agreed to accompany him on the first habitat stakeout of the expedition. This was an obvious and logical choice for Newt, as Tina’s aura skills, loyalty, and tenacity were sure to come in handy. Tina was brave, bold, and on her expedition application, she had listed her favourite dog breed as the Canaan.

The reasons she had cited for this choice included (but were not limited to) the breed’s overall adaptability, ease of training, and that she really liked their soft faces and the way that their tails could curl up into a perfect circle. Newt had put her application at the top of the list.

It was important for Newt to observe dogs in an environment where they felt comfortable. After discarding many of his initial location proposals, Newt and Tina finally agreed that the dog park by the beach would be the best place to set up their sting.

It took only about twenty minutes before both Newt and Tina abandoned their warded observation post to better engage with their subjects. This had been a personal record for Newt, who had never made it past ten minutes on his solo expeditions. He just really needed to get a better look at the Great Dane that was playing exuberantly with an Old English Sheepdog, which gave the overall effect of a horse being chased by a mop. Newt felt that his drawings would not be accurate unless he were able to properly ascertain the exact texture of both breeds’ coats. Later, he went for a swim in the ocean with a pair of Golden Retrievers.

Tina, meanwhile, had been lured into a never-ending game of fetch with an Australian Kelpie, a Border Collie and a Beagle who were getting quite competitive. Newt awarded Pluto (Kelpie) the award for highest jumper, while Jeffrey (Border Collie) took home most dedicated, and Buggles the Beagle was issued most chutzpah (only to keep them all happy, of course).

They were lucky to make it out of the dog park after only seven hours. The tips of Newt’s ears and nose were very sunburnt. He had collected multiple stool samples, which many muggles had appeared mildly alarmed by. But he contented himself with a day well spent.

\--

Jacob Kowalski had a very hard time deciding upon his favourite dog breed. He eventually settled on the Pug after an awful lot of crossing out and list-making. Newt could respect the intense thought that he put into the matter. Jacob didn’t care that Pugs were very fashionable at the moment, he just couldn’t look at their bulgy eyes and squishy faces without his heart melting. He also liked their curly tails.

Newt made a note to correct for an overrepresentation of curly-tail-lovers in his research assistant pool.

To supplement this testimony, Jacob had brought to the interview, a homemade Kołacz that he had decorated to look like a sleeping Pug. It was delicious. Jacob was certain to bring ample creativity and humour to the expedition, and probably snacks.

While not a natural habitat for dogs, Newt thought that in order to bolster their sample size, they would need to visit a dog shelter.

Newt had decided to meet every one of the dogs. It was important, he reasoned, to observe as many different types as he was able in the time that they had. He drew up a plan in which 15 minutes of their time would be allocated per dog. If they were housed in pairs, 20 shared minutes would also be appropriate.

Newt later calculated that what they actually managed was a mean dog observation time of 35 minutes, and only because there had been a Chihuahua named Cujo that they didn’t get to spend any time with because the poor thing wouldn’t stop shivering long enough for them to approach it at all.

Newt, Jacob, and an American Staffordshire Terrier Cross with a big blue bow around his neck, were ushered out of the shelter at 1826. An hour and twenty-six minutes after their official close of business. Jacob was busy making elaborate plans for an adoption day cake for Buster and Newt was very happy with the work they had achieved, all things considered.

\--

Newt intercepted Percival Graves as he strode swiftly through the foyer of the Wentworth building, his black coat billowing out behind him. Newt had come prepared with a tall black coffee, a Miniature Schnauzer puppy (Picket was being very good to share Newt’s coat with her), and one of Jacob’s signature pączki’s (his grandmother’s recipe) that Newt had taken out of its brown paper bag so that Percy would have no choice but to look at it.

“P-percy, I- I noticed that you didn’t fill out your application for my research ex-p-pedition so I’ve taken the liberty of doing it for you,” Newt stuttered in his hurry to deliver his message in its entirety before the other man could go back to work, “There are just a couple of questions that I need your in-p-put on before we can finalise it.”

“What?” Percival barked.

Newt made a note on his clipboard that Percy would be a good barker, if it became necessary. He already knew that the man could do a very terrifying growl.

“Favourite breed?”

Graves did not need to think, “Alsatian,” he stated efficiently.

“Oh, very good!” Newt commended, “Reason being?”

“Strong work ethic, high intelligence, self-assured nature.”

Newt made a few ticks on his clipboard and nodded his head in approval, “ah-and their appearance?”

Percival eyed Newt sceptically, before answering briskly, “I like their pointy ears and fluffy pants.”

“Agreed. You’re in!” Newt shook his hand and handed him the Schnauzer (Penelope).

Newt had known that Graves would be the perfect accompaniment for the viewing of a conformation show. He was astute, serious, and commanding. He also bore an uncanny resemblance to celebrated jazz musician and dog psychic Rudolf Burgdorferi, whose name Newt had already booked their tickets under.

Unfortunately, before the show had even started, Newt (while busy documenting the distinct physical attributes of the most loveable and silly Boxer dog he had ever met) was rendered temporarily incapacitated. First, Noodles attempted some very thorough grooming of his face. And then she became extremely bouncy, almost weightless, he noted (and not a Billywig in sight!) and whipped him energetically in the face with her tail.

When he finally extricated himself from the situation, and after going back for a little bit more grooming, Newt was able to locate Percival. The other man had already issued a Section 6d infringement notice to a squib who was attempting to enter her Crup in the Jack Russel Terrier category.

“She hadn’t even attempted to transfigure its tail! The nerve of some people, can you believe?” Graves muttered.

Newt was busy swabbing Noodles’ drool off of his face for laboratory diagnostics. He felt that there was a good chance that he would find the presence of some mind-altering chemical.

“Do you think Samara the Siberian Husky, or Bruiser the Dachshund for best in show?” Percival asked, “I put my money on Sam but I’m starting to have second thoughts.”

Newt, who wouldn’t dream of pitting dogs against one another in any manner (all of them were entirely perfect in their own right) could only nod and hope that all the dogs received a biscuit for their hard work. Lucky, he thought, that he had brought so many biscuits. 

\--

Queenie Goldstein was another person who did not need to hesitate when thinking about her favourite kind of dog.

“Well, _obviously_ it’s the Welsh Corgi! Have you seen their little butts! Cute. As. A. Button!” She exclaimed, “Oh but you’re more of a bitzer man, ain’t you?”

“Oh no it's not anything specific. I just can’t pick a favourite.”

“But you _do_ got a big old soft spot for the Basset Hound,” she winked.

“I- I try not to play favourites,” Newt stammered, “I don’t want to introduce bias.”

“Sure thing, sugar,” she patted his hand.

Picket, who was busying himself with a sugar cube on the table between them, copied her in patting Newt’s thumb.

Newt broke, “But have you seen their droopy ears, Queenie!? Oh, and those big sad eyes!”

“We’ve all seen your Patronus sweetie, it’s very you.”

Newt had wanted Queenie to be the first person to accompany him on an expedition, but he’d kept forgetting to give her the application paperwork. She had natural talents in legilimency that just could not be replicated with even the most rigorous practice.

Maybe, Newt suspected, a characteristic shared by dogs? 

Newt was yet to test the hypothesis that dogs were legilimens, but Queenie was the perfect research assistant for the task. He was counting on her to be able to either tune into the thoughts of dogs, or perhaps, feel the influence of the dog on the minds of others in an observational capacity.

They went to the pet store.

If Queenie was able to detect any mind-meddling happening to any of the muggles present, or within the awareness of the dogs themselves, she was particularly weak to it. She talked to the dogs a lot, but so did Newt.

A German Shorthaired Pointer had fallen asleep on Newt’s lap which put quite a limitation on his research capacity. He _was_ able to carefully evaluate the softness of its coat though. He came away with a stack of drawings all of the same bird’s eye view of his Pointer friend. At least his original hypothesis, that the speed of a dog’s wag (wags per second) was the regulator of its mind-control magic, had been disproved. He was definitely under the influence of the Pointer and there were no wags happening at all, just a few paw twitches. Newt made a note on his paper to look into paws a bit more.

Queenie left the store with a little pink dog collar, a walking harness, a range of the most dental-friendly chew toys, and a Yellow Labrador puppy now christened Honey.

“I thought Buster needed a friend,” she giggled.

Newt knew there was only really one person left to see about the whole dog issue.

\--

“I thought you were avoiding me?” Albus Dumbledore said with just the faintest trace of a smile on his face.

Newt crossed his arms sullenly. His Australian Shepherd, Mildred, who was sitting obediently on the floor beside him, did the same. As did Picket, who also blew a raspberry for good measure. They presented a very united front.

“You know,” Dumbledore began gently, “I’m still a bit hurt about that rebuttal you had published in response to my co-authored paper on the twelve uses of dragon's blood. Nicolas and I worked very hard on that.”

“Well I shouldn’t have to tell you that there is only one acceptable use for dragon's blood!” Newt huffed.

“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed, “for the transport of gas, nutrients and waste among other functions within the vasculature of dragons that are healthy and alive. I did read it, Newt.”

Newt narrowed his eyes, searching his friend for any dishonesty, “I won’t apologise.”

“Nor would I ask you too. You are a man of principle, I quite understand.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Newt tapping his fingers petulantly on the arms of the squashy chair that he was sat in. Albus waited him out, patient in a way that no other person could be. Newt expired heavily, ready to make his point.

“Ignoring your views on dragon's blood for a second-”

“Rightly so.”

“You’ve read all the notes that I sent you?”

“Twice over.”

“You’ve seen all my statistical analyses? My diagrams?”

“I especially enjoyed the drawings of Irish Wolfhounds mid-run in appendix 42b. Long bois indeed!”

“Albus,” Newt sighed with as much exasperation as he could muster, “as the greatest wizarding mind of our generation, surely you have a theory on the magic of dogs? An experience to share, a charming anecdote at the least?” (You could always count on Al for a charming anecdote)

Newt pushed on, “This question has haunted the wizarding community since the dawn of civilisation. I’ve personally dedicated twenty-eight years or my life to its pursuit, combing every available resource that I could think of for the barest hint of a clue! The wizards and witches of the world are at their wits end! They demand an answer! They _deserve_ an answer!” Newt was nearly in tears at this point with the force of his passion. _“I_ deserve an answer!” He choked out.

Albus steepled his fingers in front of his crooked nose and leaned forward, surveying Newt carefully over his long, wizened hands, “My dear Newt, I think that in this case, the answer is both the simplest and most sophisticated one.”

Newt was perched on the edge of his chair now, hands gripping tightly into the soft upholstery of its arms, “Yes? Which is?” He did not have the patience for games at a critical time like this.

“A dog’s magic is love,” Albus said, with an air of finality.

Newt blinked.

“Well, that can’t be it!” He argued. He looked pointedly at Mildred, who returned his gaze. She, like him, looked as though she was considering whether Albus might have finally emptied too much of his brain into his pensieve. She whined softly.

It simply _could not_ be true. How was _he_ , Newton Scamander, second class order of Merlin, pioneer in his field, most respected magizoologist in the entire wizarding world, supposed to write in his thirty-fourth edition book that a dog’s magic was simply _love_? After all his years of field research, all his late nights spent agonizing over obscure texts and ancient ruins, his three cabinets worth of scientific correspondence from experts around the world that he had built up over decades, how could the answer be love? They’d take his chocolate frog card away for this!

“Of course, I did not expect it to make sense to you, Newton. It is often those things that come easiest to a person that they fail to recognise as remarkable.”

Newt groaned. He slumped down low in Dumbledore’s plump armchair and buried his face in his hands.

“But Albus, if what you’re saying is true, then there isn’t a creature in the world that shouldn’t be in the book!”

“Why that’s exactly right! Now you’re cooking with gas!”

Newt’s incredulity faltered at Dumbledore’s words.

“It’s a muggle expression, Newt. I’m not sure what it means, but I rather like the sound of it,” he exclaimed, “As I was saying, a dog’s magic stems from its incredible and unwavering ability to love. You know, I think many wizards would be surprised to find that for most of life’s big questions, the answer is love.”

Newt pulled his blue coat over his head in one swift motion and screamed into his lapels. Picket joined him at a much higher octave. Mildred put her paw gently onto the toe of his boot.

\--

Dog

MoM Classification: XX

The dog is a four-legged mammalian creature of the _Canis Familiaris_ species which is said to have shared ancestry with wolves. There are many breeds of dog, each characterised by distinct personalities, traits and physical attributes. All varieties of dog possess the common principle of inherent goodness.

Dogs are capable of a number of characteristic vocalisations which can render the listener completely beguiled. Some of their best features include their ears, snoots, paws, and tails, but there is no part of a dog not to be admired. Among the preferred habitats of the dog are kennels, couches, garden beds, and muddy puddles.

Dogs have a keen acuity for human emotions and are highly intelligent, empathetic creatures. Of all the magical creatures, dogs are perhaps the most studied. Patient research over many years has finally revealed that dogs are the guardians of the sophisticated and ancient magic of love.

Puppies are classified as _Class C Tradeable Goods_ by the _Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures._

Dogs are not regarded as a threat to the _International Statute of Secrecy_ due to their demonstrated aptitude in the training of muggles. However, they should be treated with caution as they are equally as likely to bewitch witches and wizards to do their bidding.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my magnum opus and I gift it to my sister.   
> Please comment me your favourite dog for research purposes.


End file.
